


All Out of Love

by eternityforflesh



Series: Dancing in the Dark [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Family Drama, Fluff, M/M, Slash, Sticky Sexual Interfacing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-25
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-02-27 00:09:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2671562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternityforflesh/pseuds/eternityforflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Starscream is back in Vos and playing the part of the eligible and dashing Crown Prince in search of a match after the week he spent in the arms of a miner from Tarn. He's convinced everyone that his time in Kaon was just a misstep in the grand choreography of his life that changed nothing, and he's doing his best to convince himself that he isn't lost without Megatron.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Air Supply's song “All Out of Love.”  
> For your reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JWdZEumNRmI
> 
> This story is a slow-burner, dear reader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: slash, fluff, & angst. This chapter is sticky free.

      Starscream's return to Vos had happened without all the usual fanfare that usually met the end of his diplomatic visits across Cybertron. It was also downright miserable for a host of other reasons. Most of them beginning and ending with a Tarnian miner.  
      After Megatron had left WHAM Club, the Seeker had attempted to save face in the eyes of his trine-mates but he had found that his thrusters had lost their rhythm, and his steps had lost their enthusiasm.

      He couldn't have made it through one song before Thundercracker had been at his elbow, urging a quick exit and offering a teleport back to the boundaries of Vos. Anger had surged through the prince's spark again, and he'd shoved the blue jet away and run out of the club, immediately igniting his thrusters as soon as he'd made it through the door.

      Rising above the low building, he'd scanned the nearby streets looking for a familiar silver frame. Starscream hadn't known where Megatron had been staying or even in what sector of the city his lodging was located. He had felt sure his miner couldn't have gotten that far in just a few minutes.

      Floating higher, he'd searched for Megatron in a wide circle, cursing that part of the sector for being so poorly lit. He had finally decided to just cross the sector like he had the first night they'd met when a shout had risen up from below him.

      “Starscream!” It was Thundercracker with Skywarp beside him, both staring up at him dumbfounded. He had spared them a brief glance as panic began to rise in his spark. He had to find Megatron and explain. The miner couldn't just walk out on him like that.

      He'd pressed forward, increasing his speed as none of the frames below him matched Megatron's. Then, his trine-mates had joined him and put restraining hands on his arms. He had chosen not to resist them. Perhaps Megatron had been right; maybe breaking off their trysting was the best choice for both of them.

      Thundercracker had definitely been right; the prince had duties to attend to in Vos, and none of them included dancing and fragging the night away with a lower class work-build. No matter how exciting the conversations, perfect the dancing, or processor-blowing the fragging.

      Starscream had allowed his trine-mates to pull him to the ground, and they were gentle with him, stroking his wings soothingly. They may not haved cared about why he had felt upset, but it was their duty to care for him.

      The next morning, after Starscream had recharged fitfully, his fluxes filled with Megatron's optics alternating between hurt and accusation, the Seeker trine had returned to Vos.

      Which is how Starscream now found himself in his creators' private audience chambers with his trine-mates beside him, and a host of advisors casting scandalized looks at him. His creators, the Emirates of Vos – Firestorm and Sunflare – were thoroughly dressing him down.

      His creators were normally quite caring and supportive, but their sole creation's recent behavior had pushed their tolerance past the breaking point, and their optics were filled with icy fury.

      “We are aware of your _activities_ in Kaon, Starscream.” Firestorm's tone was clipped and harsh. The prince fought the urge to throw a resentful look at his trine-mates, Thundercracker in particular. Instead, he angled his wings further down into a slant of disgrace.

      “Nightfire was able to keep news of your disappearance limited to the Royal Tower.” The advisor nodded at the acknowledgment. “Your reckless, selfish actions put us in the very delicate and distressing position of needing to _apologize_ to several families whose heirs wanted to court you.” The pause in his sire's castigation lent a weight to his words that dipped Starscream's head and wings even lower. “You will make these amends personally to each family and suitor, and you will continue to act as Crown Prince of Vos with all the _dignity_ and _consideration_ the title entails.”

      Starscream felt ground down to his protoform. He had never heard Firestorm so furious.

      “Do you understand us,” Sunflare snapped. His carrier was equally irate.

      “Yes, I understand,” he said clearly for all to hear, though the jet kept his face downcast.

      “You will understand, and you will do better, or so help us, Starscream,” Sunflare threatened, his angry tone tempered by exasperation. There were no other heirs to Vos, so Starscream knew they couldn't threaten to pass him over in favor of a sibling or strip him of his title. They could, however, force a match with another noble family, and that seemed worse to Starscream than any other possible punishment.

      “I will do better,” he promised, feeling sincere. “How may I begin to repair my family's reputation?”

      The list began with sending apologies filled with flattering – and in Starscream's opinion, blatantly obsequious – glyphs for his rejection of previous invitations, acceptance of those previous invitations, and obtaining lavish gifts for his miffed suitors and their creators, and Starscream began to feel like his debasement would never end.

      He even began to feel like his week in Kaon hadn't been worth all this humiliation and then memories of Megatron filled his processor and he shoved those traitorous thoughts far, far away.

      Starscream was lying alone in his private chambers, thinking about the day he had up ahead. His creators' closest advisor, Nightfire, had convinced them that the very best way to prove their creation's sincerity in seeking a mate, and also make Starscream unswervingly accountable for his actions, was to go public with his search.

      Even now in the dark, the prince's face burned with the degradation of it all. Not only had he hated every single suitor presented to him before his escape to Kaon, but now all of Cybertron was going to follow the scrapshow that was his love life. He wanted to break something when he considered the unbelievable cruelty of his creators, and Nightfire in particular, but he had brought this all on himself. He stopped himself in mid-reach for an object – any object that would sound wonderful shattering against a wall – on the table next to his berth. A tantrum just wouldn't help anything.

      Tomorrow, there would be a press conference where he would announce his intentions and welcome every mech watching the broadcast into the private lives of the Vosian elite. His creators considered this a goodwill effort toward the rest of the population. The citizens of Vos stayed within the city-state for most of their lives, and most grounders regarded the flight-capable with both lust and no small amount of suspicion.

      Fliers were a cliquish frame-type, and Vosians were extremely private about what happened within their culture and their city-state, and of course, Starscream could never bond with a grounder, but let them fantasize about his frame and adore his fellow citizens as he played the carefree royal in front of their cameras.

      There would be no more impromptu holidays, no more running away, no more shirking his duties. He would be Emirate one day, and his ascension began in earnest tomorrow.

      The unfairness of it all burned in his tanks and caused his wings to rattle with irritation though the Seeker knew he was getting off light. In earlier days, the mere thought of holding the title of Emirate, of being the absolute ruler and monarch of Vos, the tall, proud home of all flight-capable mechs, made his spark swell painfully.

      Now, he felt as if his spark shrank at that same thought. It made him feel uncomfortable and unprepared though his entire life had been lived in anticipation of his crowning. Protocol, etiquette, and diplomacy had been drilled into his processor as rigorously as his academics and his flight training at the Air Academy.

      The unwelcome thoughts streamed through his mind until his frame shook and he snapped himself out of it by necessity. Starscream invited more pleasant thoughts to come fill him before he powered down, and images of a broad silver frame blotted out all his worries.

      Megatron, with his scuffed plating, rough voice, and dangerous optics. It had been two weeks since the miner had left Starscream broken-sparked on the dancefloor of the seedy club in Kaon, and the prince still felt tormented by the memory of his mech's last words. That he could have known such joy in the company of a mech like Megatron, whom he met purely by chance, tore at his spark and his processor. The Crown Prince of Vos could not, _should not_ be infatuated with a work-build grounder.

      No matter how Starscream tried to spin his memories and attempted to keep that final night locked away, thinking of Megatron only ended up hurting him. He would never see him again, never hear his voice, listen to his thoughts, feel the heat of his frame.

      Bitterness rose in the jet's tanks like tainted energon and he curled up in his berth, forcefully powering his systems down. Tomorrow was a new day and he needed to be ready for what it would bring.

 

*****

 

      The press conference had gone smoothly, and to the Emirates, it seemed that their wayward creation was finally taking his responsibilities seriously. After a brief and vague joint statement that was aimed more at the families whom Starscream had snubbed, Firestorm and Sunflare stepped aside and let the prince speak.

      He had pulled on his most dazzling smile and spoken about Vosian tradition and public goodwill and his excitement at his prospects. Most of that he recited from memory and from Nightfire's briefing prior to the conference.

      When questions from the press opened up, Starscream shone. He charmed the reporters, mugging for the cameras and answering even the most inane – and occasionally insultingly ignorant – questions with aplomb and just the perfect amount of teasing reproach.

      After an awed grounder reporter had asked with wide optics if the prince truly was the greatest Seeker in Vos, he had laughed throatily and invited the entire press pool up to the main flight deck for a demonstration.

      Thundercracker and Skywarp had dutifully accompanied him along with a small troop of the Royal Guard, and upon the arrival of the final stragglers, the trine had leapt into the air, transforming in tandem and rocketing away from the tower, the crack of hypersonic flight melding with the subsonic boom of Thundercracker's engines.

      Red, blue, and purple jets performed their signature formations in perfect synchronization. They rolled, spun, and twisted in the sky above Vos at speeds which only they could maneuver as the mechs gathered below murmured in admiration. For the grand finale, the Elite trine swept in around the tower in a high, wide arc, Thundercracker and Skywarp falling back to transform and land neatly on the deck, their optics on their leader as he continued on.

      Starscream laughed wildly to himself as he engaged his thrusters at seventy-five percent – a speed which neither his trine-mates, nor any other Vosian, could match – and dipped down to follow the line of the Royal Tower. He came back up circling the tower at the same speed, his engines screaming and frame straining with the momentum of his flight.

      As he passed his spectators, the prince pushed his thrusters to ninety-five percent, and the resulting increase in his engine noise caused several of them to shout with surprise. He continued straight up, spinning slowly, the sunlight flashing white-hot across his plating. At the end of his ascent, he cut a thruster and flipped wildly, the nose of his jet form swinging back toward Vos.

      Reigniting his second thruster, Starscream roared back toward the ground, reaching his top speed at maximum power in a matter of moments. He hurtled toward the tower, pushing his frame to it's limits, feeling reckless and free for the first time since he had sped away to Kaon.

      Screams of alarm from the watching grounders marked the end of his dive just a few hundred meters above the flight deck. The red Seeker skillfully cut and reignited his thrusters in quick succession as he pulled back up at a speed safer for transformation, though the strain at the slower speed could still have damaged him had he not practiced this stunt countless times.

      Starscream returned to his root mode, converting the last of his momentum into a series of graceful flips and finally floated down to the deck in the lightest of landings.

      The prince looked around all at the smiling, cheering, stunned faces surrounding him and caught himself searching for a specific pair of deep red optics. He hid his falter by spinning to face the nearest camera and throwing it a mischievous wink, stating, “I hope most of that wasn't out of focus.”

      He left the flight deck to cheers and the clamor of voices breathlessly shouting, “Live from Vos, and now back to you!”

      When his trine-mates caught up to him in the corridor below, Starscream was blotting at his plating with a mesh. Both jets stroked his wings gently in patterns indicating their approval. The touches helped settle his spark both from the exertion of his flight and the pain that was growing more familiar by the day.

      With a nod, the prince left his trine-mates behind and made his way to his chambers. There, he slid into his berth cockpit-first, his wings spreading low to cover his frame as he vented harshly into the soft cushions.

      Starscream barely had time to clear his mind before a ping from Nightfire summoned him to his creators' private chambers. The jet pushed himself up and sent back a confirmation.

      The Emirates were positively beaming when he entered their informal receiving room. His carrier gave him a brief hug, and Nightfire nodded appreciatively from a respectful distance.

      “Creation, you performed admirably today,” Sunflare began. “I had missed seeing you fly.” A warm smile creased his face as he led Starscream to a long couch where his sire was waiting.

      “It is my greatest joy, creator.”

      “You truly are the pride of Vos. And you are _our_ greatest joy,” said Firestorm, a wry smile on his face. “Despite the frustration you have brought us.” He patted the seat next to him. “Come, sit and eat, my creation.”

      The prince sat and picked through the plate of confections he was offered. Taking a polite bite from one, he sat back and forced himself to relax.

      His creators' frames on either side of him were warm and their voices as they spoke with Nightfire were soothingly familiar. Perhaps burying himself in his duties and appreciating his station in life were the best ways to heal his spark. It didn't hurt that the red treat he was currently enjoying was his absolute favorite, and his creators always made sure to have some made up for these visits.

      And perhaps he should see his creators more often. Go for a flight with them now and then. He was finishing his treat when Nightfire turned to him with a look of expectation. The prince arched a brow.

      “You will be attending the first of the balls which you had previous rejected tomorrow.”

      Starscream felt that he should be awarded a medal of bravery for not visibly shuddering. Instead, he checked his calendar and said smoothly: “So it seems. With Tower Skychaser.”

      “Will you require another briefing on your suitor and his family?” The question felt loaded, but Starscream aimed to win.

      “It wouldn't hurt. I will pay close attention this time,” he quipped, seeking out another red treat.

      “Very well, Prince,” Nightfire said stiffly. “I will see you at our usual time tomorrow.” The prince hid his smirk with another bite of his confection.

      The red jet took his leave soon after finishing the last red treat, and was caught up by his trine-mates before he could return to his rooms. They were in good spirits, even Thundercracker, and Starscream realized he had missed their company. Maybe he could beat this spark-break after all.

      He recharged decently that night, and woke feeling rested enough to take a short flight with Skywarp and Thundercracker, who seemed pleasantly surprised. He even invited them back to his rooms to sit and drink a little afternoon high-grade.

      When Nightfire arrived, the other Seekers left, and Starscream paid the close attention he had promised the advisor as the shuttle gave him the history of Tower Skychaser and the relevant mechs that Starscream would be meeting that evening.

      Toward the end of the briefing, Nightfire offered a datapad to Starscream, a humorless smile on his face. “This is Blueshift, the flier courting you tonight. I took the added precaution of scheduling him first as his coloring might offend you less than the young mech you tripped at the last event.” The advisor's optics sharpened subtly, and Starscream took the pad lightly, his face blank as he studied the image of Blueshift. The jet's frame was heavy for a Seeker build, but his colors were attractive.  
      Handing the pad back, Starscream smiled. “That blue is similar to mine. He has nice thrusters, too. You chose well.” Before the verbal exchange could grow more pointed, the chamber's door was pinged. Two servants entered as the door opened to begin polishing Starscream's frame to perfection.

      The red jet gave the dark shuttle a triumphant smirk. “I'll see you at the flight deck in an hour.”

 

*****

 

      At the appointed time, Starscream and his trine-mates joined Nightfire and two trines of Royal Guards on the uppermost flight deck. As the elite trine approached, Nightfire loudly reset his vocalizer.

      “The press has been invited to the ball at Tower Skychaser,” he said dryly. “Please attempt to avoid tripping mechs while reporters are present, Prince.”

      A vicious smile spread the Prince's lips. “Oh, that shouldn't be a problem, Nightfire.” He turned to the mechs assembled on the deck. “Shall we?” Salutes and nods answered him and the group transformed en masse and flew at low speeds toward the ball, guards bracketing the Seekers in advance and rear positions.

      It was a short flight, Vos being much higher than it was wide with the Royal Tower complex seated at the city-state's center. The heads of Tower Skychaser were waiting at the grandest flight deck of their home as was a small contingent of reporters, cameras already rolling as Starscream's group approached.

      Their transformations and landings were executed flawlessly and with the discipline expected of mechs of the Royal Tower. It was impressive as each descending trine reverted to root mode in perfect synchronization in order of their arrival: advance guard, the elite trine, Nightfire, and rear guard, like the uncurling of a great hand.

      The Skychaser mechs' faces retained their politely pleased expressions, but their wings fanned with awe and admiration. Starscream's optics found his intended suitor, and the blue and light green Seeker's wings were hiked high with interest.

      Blueshift's creators stepped forward to initiate the traditional formal greeting. The Seekers bowed, their entourage closely following suit. As they straightened, Blueshift's optics traveled up Starscream's frame in a respectfully appreciative way. The prince didn't fault him – at least the Seeker had the decency to not ogle him like a slack-jawed buffoon.

      “Crown Prince Starscream, I, Heliostream, my mate Lightphase, and Tower Skychaser welcome you to our home. We welcome your trine-mates, Thundercracker and Skywarp, and the mechs of your tower. Please receive our hospitality and enjoy the reception we have prepared for you.”

      Starscream smiled, and it felt at least a little genuine. The creators of his suitor seemed to have brains in their head and manners to match. He nodded for the mechs to proceed with the rest of the greeting.

      “We present our creation, Blueshift, and request that you accept his company tonight.” The fliers stepped aside and his suitor stepped forward, bowing his heavy frame gracefully, remaining low until Starscream acknowledged him.

      “I accept your request. Rise, Blueshift of Tower Skychaser.”

      “Many thanks, Prince Starscream,” the blue Seeker said, and his calm, even tone reminded the prince of Thundercracker. That was a pleasant surprise. “I welcome you to our home, and am pleased to serve as your escort tonite.” Then, he stepped back to allow two other Seekers, his trine, to come forward. “My trine-mates: Windstar and Zenith.” The two mechs bowed respectfully and then moved away.

      Blueshift held his hand out to Starscream, a mild smile on his face. “Let us move to the ballroom.”

      “It would give me pleasure to join the festivities.” He placed his hand lightly in the offered hand and the blue fingers closed around his in a firm, but undemanding hold.

      They left the flight deck with the other mechs falling in line behind them as prescribed by tradition. The first light strains of music reached Starscream's audials as they approached the ballroom. He groaned inwardly. More traditional music, and presumably more traditional dancing. Still, he kept his smile as gracious as he could manage and nodded to the mechs they passed in the corridors.

      The group made their grand entrance, a Skychaser mech calling out the various names and titles. Applause rose and fell, and the red Seeker looked out over the assembled mechs and the room itself.

      Lots attractive mechs in Tower Skychaser, he noted. More traditional decorations, in the colors of both towers with splashes of Starscream's red tastefully worked in. He looked to Blueshift, who was watching him with some amusement.

      Taking two glasses of high-grade from an offered tray, Blueshift held one out to his prince who accepted. “Do you like the decorations, Crown Prince?”

      “I appreciate red being used. Most towers have overlooked my personal coloring when deciding on decor.”

      “I am not a mech who overlooks important details,” the blue-and-green Seeker said, optics bright over the rim of his glass as he sipped his drink.

      A small smile was the reply, and with a short glance around the room, Blueshift spoke again: “Come, Prince, let us complete the formalities of these tedious introductions so that we may begin the even more tedious dances.” The sentiment sharpened the red jet's smile. Perhaps here was a kindred spark who hated rigidity as much as he did.

      He accompanied his suitor around the room, meeting various advisors and important nobles within the tower. Soon enough they were done, and the blue Seeker signaled the musicians to begin the a new song.

      Fliers arranged themselves on the dancefloor in long rows facing each other. A bow began the dance, and the music floated through the room. Starscream and Blueshift stepped forward to spin slowly, stepping back to spin with other dancers.

      “I love this dance,” commented the prince, voice neutral, as he spun with his suitor again.

      “Its traditional.” A crooked smile lifted a corner of the thick Seeker's lips, and the red jet bit back a laugh.

      The two Seekers wove through the other dancers, exchanging snide asides when they passed each other while their faces remained mild and their voices quiet and light. Starscream did his best to enjoy the entirely boring dance, and Blueshift's seeming understanding did much to help that.

      Starscream found himself increasingly meeting and holding the Seeker's golden gaze, his smile coming easier and staying longer. When the dance ended, fresh glasses of high-grade appeared in their hands, and they moved to a group of couches as the next dance began.

      Blueshift sat close to him, but not overbearingly so. He waved casually to the dancefloor. “I chose a song for our next dance, but it will not come up for some time. I hope you like it.” Something about his tone left Starscream feeling intrigued. He leaned closer to the mech.

      “You are the first mech I have met that seems to realize how monotonous this entire process is.”

      “There is nothing monotonous about you.” At that, Blueshift did give his prince an appraising look, and the jet felt his fans speed up a bit. “And that should be as obvious as your coloring.”

      The blue-and-green jet took another set of drinks from a passing server, handing one to Starscream. “I know much about you, Crown Prince, and I know that I am just another high-born Seeker in your optics. I am very serious about finding a mate, though since you have yet to formally announced a courting, I don't know how serious you are about the same.”

      Starscream straightened and, after a pause, laughed lightly. For all his manners, Blueshift was bold. Just like.... The prince fought the frown that threatened to turn his lips down. He widened his smile instead.

      “If I must be serious about finding a consort, he will be a mech that I can and will love for the rest of my function,” he said, then leaned close to whisper earnestly. “I must admire and respect him. He must not be _monotonous_.”

      “Then we have an understanding.” A considering look crossed his suitor's face. “You are the Crown Prince, and your wealth, intelligence, and flying skill are well-known. Those alone make you very desirable as a mate. But I, too, must admire and respect my bonded, and not simply for those things.”

      “You forgot to mention that I am stunning.”

      “Do you always require such flattery?”

      The prince scoffed half-sparkedly. “Not require, but I do enjoy it.” His smirk returned, and he finally began to feel at ease in the other mech's company.

      The jets sat and drank for through a few more songs, their conversation idly moving from topic to topic. And when the blue-and-green jet stood for their next dance, Starscream offered his hand without being asked.

      Only a few other couples joined them on the dancefloor, and the song was markedly faster and the steps a little more daring, requiring Blueshift to lead him through a few passages. It was another pleasant surprise, and the Seeker's voice in his audial informing him of the next steps in the dance drew a warmth through the red jet's frame.

      Several mechs complimented them on their dancing after the song ended, and the two Seekers returned to their previous seats, frames positioned closer than they had been before.

      Their conversation resumed companionably, and as the threads of topics turned and twisted, Starscream found himself studying his suitor more intently. He liked Blueshift – maybe not enough to grant a formal courtship yet – but he wouldn't block his commline tomorrow.

      The blue jet suddenly broke off the conversation with a low laugh, his optics veering to the dancefloor. He gestured with his half-empty glass. “One of the elders of Tower Skychaser.”

      Starscream followed the gesture and saw an elderly white and blue jet step onto the floor. Facial detailing had fallen out of fashion in Vos thousands upon thousands of years ago in favor of smooth facial plating, but this flier still retained long trailing mustachios and tiny winged brow ridges.

      His frame was as tall and proud as any younger flier present, but he walked with a slowness that wasn't calculated or simply an attempt to seem more formal.

      “He's _ancient_ ,” Starscream whispered before he could catch himself.

      “And he's a dirty old mech,” Blueshift whispered back conspiratorially. Sure enough, the older mech offered a hand to a much younger flier, and as they stepped together, a white hand openly pinched the aft of his partner. The responding yelp wasn't lost in the music, but it was wholly ignored by everyone else. It seems the old mech's reputation was well-known.

      Red and blue Seekers snicked together as the dance began and the groping of the young dancer began in earnest. A particularly pointed comment from Blueshift had Starscream caught halfway between a shocked sputter and an unbridled laugh, and his spark seized. His suitor's sense of humor reminded him so much of Megatron.

      The blue jet noticed Starscream's sudden silence and a question formed on his face. “If he offends you, we can–“

      “I'm not offended,” the prince said quietly. Blueshift was watching him curiously, so Starscream took a deep vent and pulled his smile back on. “Its nothing. I believe I need another drink.”

      The blue jet smiled, and signaled to a server. “I would like at least one more dance before we end up over-charged, Prince.”

      “I can manage that,” the red Seeker replied, tipping back the last of his glass and taking the next.

      The tight feeling in Starscream's spark remained for the rest of the ball, but it did ease some with more dancing, high-grade, and Blueshift's constant companionship.

      As the night drew to a close, Starscream was more over-charged than he would have liked, and what he would have liked was a kiss from his blue-and-green suitor. A kiss might have helped to wash away the uncomfortable feeling in his spark, and a hard frag against a wall might have helped even more.

      He liked Blueshift very much; they seemed very compatible, but simply feeling interested in another mech filled his tank with guilt until he felt he could taste it in his mouth, sour and heavy.

      But kissing and other activities were reserved for formal courtships. He wasn't quite ready to commit to that. And he still had five other apology balls to attend, never mind the ones that were already being planned for later. He drunkenly wondered how many noble Towers there were in Vos. Nightfire wouldn't appreciate being asked.

      Applause much rowdier than earlier trailed after Starscream's exit with his mechs, and the original welcoming party escorted them all back to the flight deck. Traditional offerings of thanks were exchanged between Starscream and the Skychaser mechs, and Blueshift bent to one knee as he pressed the prince's hand to his brow to formally express his interest in courting the red Seeker.

      A sly, private look filled Blueshift's face as he lifted his chin to look at Starscream, and he drew the blue hand in his down his face in a barely-there gesture of affection.

      Starscream held his smile despite the desire and betrayal threatening to snuff his wildly-pulsing spark. He was aware that he had to keep his composure for many reasons, especially since Blueshift had no idea that a scarred silver frame was troubling Starscream's thoughts, and because the press had rejoined them at the deck, and the bright lights from their cameras were catching every single second of the exchange for broadcast later.

      He just wanted to go home and lock himself in his chambers until he was dragged out. Nodding politely to the other mechs to end the small ceremony, the red Seeker steeled himself as he spun to face the press, his brightest smile stretching his lips.

      A voice from the crowd shouted: “How was the party, Starscream?”

      Turning in the direction of the voice, he replied, “Wonderful. Beyond compare.”

      “What's he like?”

      “One of Vos's finest. An excellent companion for the evening.”

      “Are you interested?” A microphone pushed into his face.

      “A prince doesn't kiss and tell.” He smirked at the frustrated noises in response.

      “Oh, come on!” The nerve of these grounder reporters, he thought.

      “Sorry, mechs! Gotta jet.” He threw a glance at his trine-mates standing just behind him and their guards cleared a space for take-off. A few more questions were shouted at him as his group transformed and flew away.

      When he landed at the Royal Tower, he held a hand out before Nightfire could open his mouth. “Debriefing tomorrow. I need some rest.” He began walking away. “Nothing more for tonight.” Thundercracker and Skywarp moved to follow him, but he waved them off, promising another flight exercise the next afternoon. That satisfied them, and they turned off toward their chambers.

      Starscream fell into recharge almost as soon as he'd shut off the lights to his berthroom, high-grade and emotional turmoil having taken their toll on his systems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd so plox forgive any errors you may have encountered. I know some of you have been hanging tough for this update. My love to you; you keep these inspo fires burnin.
> 
> ETA: went through a corrected a few glaring errors I spotted.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit sticky, Skywarp, and massive tissue/onion alert.
> 
> For a secondary Starscream theme that also inspired me, please see the following:  
> Ellie Goulding "Lights (Bassnectar Remix)"  
> Listen here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Imixg3jrJS8

      The next morning, Starscream awoke with a curse on his lips. Sunlight was streaming through his windows and, not for the first time, he felt irritated by the grand, airy architecture that he normally found so beautiful. His head hurt and his optics throbbed, and moving seemed like a life-threatening activity.

      The prince lay there for some time, attempting to keep his annoyance at bay so that his frame could stay cool. Finally, knowing that he had a reasonably full schedule for the day, he sat up slowly and reviewed his appointments: several briefings and meetings added by Nightfire, and a flight with his trine-mates.

      Then, the red Seeker reviewed his message queue. A few formal communications from mechs at Tower Skychaser, an excited ping from Skywarp about their flight later, and a message from Blueshift.

      After dispatching his requisite replies, and pinging Skywarp back, Starscream opened his suitor's message. It read:

“Dear Crown Prince: I trust that you had a pleasant evening in my company. I would like to see you again soon. Please accept my gift, and I hope that it delights you as much as your presence delights me. Til we meet again, Blueshift.”

      Starscream wasn't sure when he had begun to find the suffocating formality of his culture such a turn-on, but he felt it had something to do with the mischievous tone that seemed to give all the stilted glyphs a racy twist.

      His spark raced a little when he remembered golden optics glinting with the smirk that didn't reach Blueshift's lips. He _would_ like to see the blue-and-green Seeker again, and soon. The prince found the other jet exciting; such a polished exterior and such impeccable etiquette that hid a devious and clever mind. Blueshift wasn't really what he appeared to be, and Starscream liked that very much. Megatron wasn't what he appeared....

      He cut the thought off before it finished. His spark cramped with misery, and the prince pressed his head into his hands, hunching over on his berth. He _wouldn't_.

      His frame rattled with the force of his ventilations. He _wouldn't_. Megatron had left _him_ humiliated and spark-broken in Kaon. The miner was moving on with his life, and now, so was Starscream. He grit his denta hard enough to hurt, the grimace on his face becoming something more feral.

      He. Would. _Not_. And of this hour, he was pushing Kaon and Megatron out of his mind. Starscream wouldn't be brought so low as to miss a rough brute like that miner. The jet packaged up all his uncomfortable feelings and stuffed them as far down as he could. He was going to find a consort, and he was going to fulfill his duty to Vos, and he was going to be happy.

      And that was that.

      Blueshift had mentioned a gift. Starscream pinged a servant, and the mech quickly entered with a small box in the colors of House Skychaser with small red flourishes inscribed on it. A small smile tugged the jet's lips up.

      He opened it, and found a carefully arranged cluster of energon treats in red, blue, and green. The prince didn't think his addiction to sweets was that well-known, but Blueshift had mentioned that he knew a lot about him. And he red confections couldn't possibly be the ones that he favored so much.

      Lifting one out carefully, he took a bite. They were. His engines purred low as he savored the sweet flavor in his mouth. Starscream finished that treat and started on the next. He felt silly getting revved up over what amounted to candy – and this had Nightfire all over it – but this kind of attention from Blueshift flattered him so much more than sweetly-toned glyphs.

      The prince closed the box, saving a few treats for later, and composed a short reply to his blue-and-green suitor, shading his glyphs heavily with interest and pleasure. He _really_ wanted to see the mech again.

      A short while later, Starscream found himself in the first of his many meetings for the day. Nightfire stopped just short of interrogating him over his time in Blueshift's company, but he seemed satisfied with the red jet's behavior and pleased that Starscream had actually enjoyed his evening.

      The shuttle ushered him through the rest of his afternoon meetings, not all in regards to his search for a mate, many concerning the day-to-day running of their city-state. Starscream focused his attention, asked questions, made notes as necessary. Normally, he slouched through these types of things, alternating between surly and uninterested. It didn't escape his notice that his advisor's optics glinted with pride.

      At last, when the red jet's time was his own, he pinged his trine-mates for their scheduled flight. The elite trine spent an hour wheeling over Vos, their tight formations quickly devolving into races and chases and wild loops. It had been fun, and just what he needed.

      So, when Starscream stepped into his creators' informal receiving room, his steps were light, his smile was bright, and his spark nearly matched both.

      He sat between his creators and recounted his night at the Skychaser ball. At some point, he was certain he was gushing over Blueshift, and the twinkle in his sire's optics was all the confirmation he needed.

      The Emirates were happy that it seemed their only creation, long ago mature in frame, was finally maturing at his spark. And perhaps Blueshift was the mech that would calm Starscream's tempestuous spark and lighten the shadow of loneliness that had followed him since his early years.

      That night, alone in his room, Starscream sighed contentedly. He could still feel the patterns his creators' had traced on his wings to express their happiness and pride in him. It felt nice to know that he was doing right by them and Vos. Perhaps becoming Emirate wasn't such a daunting experience as he had been beginning to believe. His entire day had been pleasant and calming; he hoped to have more like it.

      Just as his systems were beginning to power down, he received a ping. Blueshift. The Seeker sat up so quickly, his light covers fell to the floor. It was just a query ping, and he immediately pinged back.

      The prince didn't have to wait long for the next message. It was another basic ping, but a single glyph was attached that conveyed curiosity.

      He returned a glyph of confirmation. The reply contained a glyph representing amusement.

      A compound glyph expressing his mock exasperation.

      Mischievous glee.

      Starscream laughed to himself, and settled himself more comfortably on his berth. He pinged back affection, and received the glyph for encouragement.

      He returned the set of glyphs denoting a decrease in air speed, and he immediately received understanding. The two seekers continued their conversation in this manner, sending each other one or one set of glyphs to convey their feelings.

      It was one of the most simulating conversations he'd ever had – mostly due to the limited method of communication – and after both mechs had signed off the line, Starscream spent a considerable amount of time thinking about Blueshift.

 

*****

 

      Several weeks passed with Starscream attending soiress, galas, banquets, and all manners of receptions meant to introduce him to other eligible noblemechs and entice him to enter into a formal courting arrangement. Some less formal, others quite lavish, and still others ridiculously opulent.

      The Cybertronian media dogged his thrusters as the story of his search gathered attention across the planet and colonies. Sales of digi-mags featuring interviews, images, and gossip about the Seeker and his suitors skyrocketed as did celebrity entertainment shows featuring segments on the Crown Prince. Vos's popularity among grounders surged, and Starscream was named as one of Cybertron's most fascinating mechs, alongside such perennial favorites as the artist Sunstreaker, musician and DJ Jazz, and racing superstar Blurr.

      Trade agreements were negotiated with neighboring city-states due to public goodwill and Vos's prosperity increased exponentially. The Emirates couldn't have been happier with the situation, and Nightfire himself was especially pleased. Publicizing Starscream's quest for a mate had been his idea after all.

      Starscream played his part flawlessly, seeming to revel in the attention and strategizing photo ops with a savvy that impressed his advisors. It seemed as though the Seeker was coming into his own as a mech of authority and power.

      He still managed to spend time with Blueshift in between events, enjoying quiet meals with the Seeker in his creators' formal salons. They weren't formally courting, but both mechs agreed that this was to be a slow and thorough process.

      Even his relationship with his trine-mates was improving. The three Seekers spent many hours together, flying or lounging about during Starscream's rare free time. It seemed like too many years had passed without him being active in their lives, and as they renewed their bonds, Starscream was reminded of how much he loved the blue and purple jets. They were not only his wings in flight, when they had trined, they had been his best friends.

      Thundercracker's centuries-old annoyance had dissipated, and his seemingly endless patience returned. Skywarp's aloofness was exchanged for his previously reckless curiosity. And a long-forgotten prankster began leaving surprises of varying levels of danger around the Royal Tower.

      When the red jet began the process of narrowing his field of suitors, the media frenzy turned absolutely rabid. Four Seekers, including Blueshift, from incredibly wealthy and powerful towers made the cut, and several gossip shows expanded their Starscream segments to entire broadcasts once a week to cover all the news and rumors.

      Among grounder observers and most of Vos, there was no clear favorite to bond to Starscream. In Vos, old tower alliances and even older rivalries divided support amongst the four suitors. For grounders, personal attractions were what decided their favorite.

      Each hopeful Seeker had his own traits which earned him support. Stoic versus jovial personality. Long and lean frame versus solid and powerful. Hard-partying versus academically accomplished. And some grounders simply supported the flier that sported their favorite colors.

      A second press conference was announced to officially proclaim the final four suitors and name the date for the ceremony that would begin the formal courting of Starscream.

      After the press conference was scheduled, Starscream and his blue jet were lounging in the Royal Library, idly sipping high-grade, the room filled with tension of various kinds.

      For the first time since meeting Blueshift, the red jet found it difficult to hold his golden gaze. Finally, the other mech spoke:

      “I'd ask you to tell me what troubles you, Starscream, but I already know.” His voice was as calm as ever, but a sadness ran through it.

      “I'm so tired of this slag,” the prince confessed. “The reporters, my creators, _Nightfire_...,” he trailed off, his face falling into exhausted lines. Blueshift remained silent.

      “And I care about you. More than I thought I could.” The red Seeker looked up. “You have helped me so much. I don't want anyone but you. And these others....”

      Blueshift moved closer to the prince, one hand cupping his face and the other gripping the hand in the red jet's lap. “There's more.”

      “You understand what happens next once formal courting begins. I won't be able to see you like this anymore.” His optics filled with sadness, and his voice dropped with resignation. “I mean, yes, we'll be able to interface – and I want that so much – but the rest get the same treatment. And that feels like a betrayal to you.”

      “You have my spark and my frame, Starscream. All that I am,” said the Seeker. “Its distasteful that we can't skip all this _slag_ ,” he spat the word as if it sullied his mouth. “But you are the mech I want and desire; I will suffer this indignity if you will.”

      “I can, and I will. For you, and for Vos.” Starscream's voice was soft as he met Blueshift's optics, his own filling with too many emotions to name. “But especially for you.” His optics dropped to pale blue lips. “Give me your strength tonight, and help me forget this burden for a little while. It gets harder each day.”

      He pulled a blue hand to his hips and leaned toward the other jet, his fans kicking on.  
      “Anything, anything for you,” came the breathless whisper, and their lips met. Starscream moaned into the kiss and his frame sagged against Blueshift. What began as slow, tentative movements became firm and insistent. His glossa darted out to trace his partner's lips as his hands roamed the other's frame, fingers smoothing over curves and planes, following seams in his plating.

      Starscream shifted onto his knees on the couch, and kissed Blueshift hard, mouth hungry and desperate. He pushed the blue jet back against the cushions and leaned after him as his frame shifted. The other Seeker's vents stuttered as Starscream slid a leg across his hips and settled over his thighs.

      Optics now offlined, the prince pressed his cockpit against Blueshift's until glass screeched between them. He lifted a hand to the jet's shoulder vent and dragged his fingers down an edge, past his turbines, down his mid-section to his pelvic plating where heat was gathering quickly.

      The prince broke their kiss to whisper urgently against a cheek: “I need this. I need you.” He slipped his hand between his partner's thighs. “Please.”

      A ragged sigh met his audial and was followed by the click of an interface panel opening. Blueshift's spike rubbed against his plating as it pressurized and the red Seeker gave a few exploratory strokes, pulling harsh pants from the jet.

      Sliding his own panel back and lifting his hips in preparation, Starscream onlined his optics to find that red optics were gold, and the silver face was indeed pale blue. And the hand gently stroking his face was bright blue, not black, smooth and fine, not rough and blunted.

      He bit his lips, holding back the cry pushing out from his spark. His optics flickered, and he thrust down onto Blueshift's spike, taking it all in one movement. Then, he did allow a shout to leave him, the sting of his valve's stretch mingling with the pain of the wound violently reopened in his spark.

      “Starscream?” The blue Seeker's voice was full of concern, but his face was blurred by the tears filling Starscream's optics.

      “Its okay. I'm okay,” the prince lied, beginning to move his hips. “I just need this. I'm okay.” He scrubbed at his optics with his palm and forced a wobbly smile to his face. “Don't hold back. I won't.”

      Blueshift smiled in return, his optics rapidly focusing and unfocusing with each downward press of Starscream's hips. “I've waited too long to hold anything back.”

      Starscream pulled the blue face to his neck cabling, tucking his chin against Blueshift's audial. The red jet moaned as lips began working against his cabling, soft words of encouragement and praise slipping out between kisses and nips, and a blue hand trailed over a white wing.

      He rode his partner hard, angling his hips to reach the deepest sensors he could. He forced himself down with a fierce determination, not only to give his frame the plating-rattling release it craved, but in hopes of once and for all obliterating the memories of Kaon that felt raw in his mind.

      When the flier beneath him tweaker a particular sensor cluster in his wing, Starscream felt a tidal shift in the pleasure collecting around his panel. “Yes,” he hissed, clutching Blueshift tighter as he strained toward climax. The cluster was pinched and held tight, and the coil of heat between the red jet's thighs tightened with an almost painful intensity.

      His valve clenched involuntarily as a precursor to his rapidly approaching overload, and the short pants venting against his neck cabling merged into one long, low groan. Blueshift grabbed Starscream's hips and pushed them down as he thrust his hips up in a series of erratic movements.

      Blueshift's fingers tightened against his prince's plating and his voice was mostly static as he repeated the name of his beloved over and over again as he overloaded. He leaned back and his golden optics lifted and focused in time to see Starscream reaching his peak above him, mouth open, head thrown back, optics offlined, wings arched high over his shoulders.

      The blue-and-green Seeker caught the red as he sagged, spent and shaking. He placed reverent kisses all over the slack face, optics brimming with adoration. As Starscream's optics flickered online at last, Blueshift spoke, his voice thick with emotion, his tone solemn: “I love you, Starscream. I love you, and I can wait a few months more so that I can spend the rest of my life with you.”

      As fresh tears spilled down Starscream's cheeks, his expression as fragile as glass, the blue jet chuckled and wiped them away. “You are beautiful, and you will be my mate. Fear not, my love.” A beatific smile spread across Blueshift's pale face and Starscream wished he could disappear and be forgotten.

      But he held steady, and pressed a tender kiss to his lover's lips. “I would like that,” Starscream said honestly. He would like to spend the rest of his life with this mech, if only the hulking shadow of a miner wasn't currently looming over him, his memories, and his future.

      The prince sighed, weary in spark and frame. “We should clean up. Its getting late, and I have that press conference tomorrow,” he said apologetically.

      He stood unsteadily, his hips and thighs sore from the exertion of trying to frag away his pain. Blueshift stood in a similar shaky state, his panel snapping neatly shut. He grinned as he looked at the smears on his plating. “I almost don't care.”

      Starscream laughed. “I wish we didn't have to.” He pulled a set of meshes and polish cloths from his sub-space. “Most of the tower lights will be dimmed by now. It doesn't have to be perfect.”

      “Only you can be perfect,” Blueshift teased, and Starscream scoffed. After a few minutes spent scrubbing and wiping and applying polish, both mechs left the library and made their way to a smaller flight deck on that level.

      “Good-bye and good-night, love,” the blue jet said, placing a chaste kiss on his prince's cheek.

      “Good-bye and good-night,” Starscream replied, his voice soft. As Blueshift turned to depart, a ping hit the red Seeker's queue. His cough of surprise was answered by a laugh as his lover engaged his thrusters and lifted off the deck. As he transformed and sped away, Starscream read the comm.

      It was just one glyph: love.

 

*****

 

      Rounding the corner to his chamber door deep in thought, Starscream nearly bumped into his trine-mates. Skywarp's face was plastered with a look a expectation and Thundercracker merely looked exasperated. Those looks were so familiar to the prince, he reacted almost by instinct, and his face felt into equally familiar stubborn lines.

      “Well,” Skywarp prompted.

      “Well, what?” Starscream crossed his arms over his cockpit.

      “Did you clang or what?”

      “Oh Primus, shut up!” The red jet glanced around and then shoved his trine-mates toward his door, herding them through as it opened. Once the door was shut, he whirled on the purple Seeker. “Why would you ask me that?”

      “Thousands of years and you still wonder?” The jet groused as he made himself comfortable on a cushy seat. “Did you?”

      Starscream looked to his blue trine-mate, appealing for reason. Thundercracker just shrugged. He was curious, too.

      “Yes, we did. And its not your business,” the prince huffed, plopping down on a couch, fingering a cushion anxiously.

      “Your business is our business, always has been, whether you like it or not,” Skywarp reminded him, tapping his plating above his spark for emphasis. Then, he leaned forward, his face taking on it's usual manic expression. “Tell us everything!”

      “What's there to tell? We fragged, he went home,” he bit out, hoping that Skywarp would let it drop.

      “Yes, but was it good? What was his spike like? Do you want to frag him again?”

      “You ask too many questions!” Starscream flung the cushion at the purple jet.

      “You don't give enough details!” The cushion came flying back, and the prince caught it and hugged it to his cockpit. He sighed, his wings drooping, mirroring his mood.

      “He can't be that bad in the berth,” Skywarp said, his voice incredulous. “Can he? He's a thick build.”

      “Its not that. It was good.” Starscream sighed again. “Its just....” He looked up, his optics troubled and dim. “I need to tell someone, and you two are my best friends.” Skywarp and Thundercracker snapped to attention, their focus zooming in on their red trine-leader. He took a deep vent and the words rushed out:

      “It was good. He said he loved me, and I might love him back. I want to be with him. But...Megatron. I wished I was fragging Megatron, and when I realized I wasn't, I started crying. And Blueshift was so nice about it, but I didn't tell him why I was crying. I just played it off as being stressed. And he said he loved me, and I love Megatron....” He trailed off, feeling defeated and ashamed of himself. For his deception of a mech he cared about, and because he could not master his own spark when it came to the miner from Tarn.

      His trine-mates' silence hurt, and he almost left to shut himself in his berthroom, but Thundercracker's voice stopped him.

      “What do you want, Starscream?”

      “What's best for Vos. And that's Blueshift.”

      “No, what do _you_ want?”

      “What I want isn't important.”

      “It is. This is your life.”

      “Don't you know my life belongs to Vos?”

      “Frag that, Screamer,” Skywarp shouted. The prince recoiled in shock.

      “So what do you want,” Thundercracker asked again.

      Starscream offlined his optics. “I want to know what Megatron is thinking of. If its not me, then I can get over him.”

      “That's all?”

      “Its a start. I'm a mess, and it all starts with him.”

      “You're a _fraggin_ mess, for sure,” his purple trine-mate corrected. The red Seeker shot him a look.

      “So, you don't think I'm disgusting for being hung up on a grounder?”

      “We don't really understand it, but we understand you. And you've worked so hard since you returned. Vos loves you, Cybertron loves you, we're flying together again, and you're talking to us like you used to.” The blue jet ticked off points on his fingers.

      Skywarp finished for him: “If all that slag still doesn't make you happy, and you say its a miner that is ruining it for you 'cause he dumped you, we believe you.”

      “And you have a hot mech like Blueshift head over thrusters for you, and you could care less, something is wrong,” he continued. Starscream snorted.  
      “Its not that I don't care, I do,” the red jet said. “Its just that I don't care enough.” He looked down at his hands throttling the cushion in his lap. “And it makes me feel like slag because Blueshift could be my bonded if Megatron hadn't gotten to me first.”

      “Oh, mech, you've got it bad,” Skywarp teased, standing up and stretching his wings wide. “We'll figure this out, right, Thundercracker?”

      “We will.” His deep voice was reassuring, and he stepped behind the prince to stroke his wings. “Get some rest, Starscream. We'll see you tomorrow.” He gave Starscream's shoulder a gentle squeeze, and his trine-leader patted his hand in thanks.

      “See you tomorrow,” he said, moving toward his berthroom, cushion still clutched to him and much worse for wear. When he was sure his trine-mates were gone, Starscream collapsed into his berth, curling his frame around the cushion, burying his face into the berth padding to muffle his sobs.

      He had wealth, fame, loyal friends, a handsome lover, and still the red Seeker felt so alone, so low. He poured it all out of his spark in tears and wails and whimpers, hoping to run it dry so that he could recharge soon. Hoping that he would wake in the morning feeling better.

      Trying to hold Blueshift's face in his mind was futile; the image shimmered and reformed into hard lines, golden optics darkened to red, and the smile curled into an insolent smirk. Megatron. A fresh bout of sobs wracked the jet's frame.

      All he wanted was for Megatron to come and carry him away. Away from the long, lonely nights in his strong arms, the rumble of his engines soothing his spark, and words of forgiveness washing over Starscream in his harsh voice.

      Those thoughts spun in his mind until it hurt, and by then, his frame was nothing but one huge ache. The Seeker felt raw all over, inside and out. He felt lost, too. Lost and not wanting the one direction being provided to him.

      His cries quieted as he tired, and he uncurled a hand from the abused cushion beneath him, stretching the cramp out of it as it drifted toward the edge of the berth.

      When he awoke the next morning, Starscream hadn't move at all in his exhausted recharge, his hand still reaching for the silver mech that walked through his fluxes all night, and he had to wonder if Megatron was somewhere reaching for him, too.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, do you hate me yet? I'm shocked at my own cruelty, but 80s love ballads were not kind mistresses either.
> 
> Still unbeta'd, but I combed my text harder to make it an easier read. Comments of any kind are very much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3, Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: sticky, angst.

      Another press conference just two months after the first, and Starscream once again found himself standing before a crowd of reporters from across the planet and colonies in the Grand Hall of the tower he called home.

      He spoke with as much charm and outward confidence as he had previously, but his spark wasn't in his performance; and performance was the only thing he could call it. The prince had practiced his smile until his face hurt and he knew no one would find it strained.

      Blueshift was in his mind, as was his miner. _The_ miner. Megatron was no longer his, had never been, never would be.

      As Starscream spoke about his suitors, he gave a brief history of each of their Towers, painting them in the very best light. Any offense at this point would spin the old rivalries into action, and Vos didn't need that type of publicity broadcast to grounders. So, he spoke like each mech had an equal chance to become his bonded, each family possessing equally illustrious histories and lineages full of brave warriors, noble leaders, and brilliant academics.

      Then, the jet outlined the formal courtship process – leaving out that his suitors could now offer him much more intimate attention and that he was expected to accept at least once from all of them – and highlighted the rich tradition of formal courtship among the nobles of Vos. He hoped that engrossing the grounders with history and pretty details would distract them from the questions he knew they'd want to ask.

      They'd want to ask because his love life and all it's sticky details were merely a ratings booster for these mechs and their bosses.

      When he opened the floor to a short question and answer session, one blustery green mech popped up from his seat like a rust-weed after a rain and shouted his question:

      “Is interfacing part of the negotiation for bonding?”

      Starscream answered without hesitation despite his tired mind causing him to see the red lights of cameras recording as glaring, menacing optics: “Compatibility between mates is of the most importance not only to further our frame designs, but also because the respective towers join into contracts that remain intact unless the bond is dissolved or broken.”

      There. Nightfire would be proud of that answer.

      Another reporter was heard over the clamor. “Are bonds ever dissolved?”

      “Rarely. Flight-frames are no different than any other frame type in that dissolution of a bond is a very painful and usually dangerous process. But they have happened in times of emergency or great peril to Vos.”

      The prince fielded a few more questions before closing the press conference. As soon as he passed out of the Grand Hall and into the more private areas of the tower, he let his act drop, his wings lowering along with his expression.

      He had one week before his four suitors formally presented themselves to him and the rest of the planet. Blue hands scrubbed at his dark face, distress apparent in the intensity of his motions.

      He'd be ready. The Pride of Vos would not fail in this.

*****

      Starscream wasn't ready at all.

      The formal presentation ball was the next evening, and he wasn't ready. His spark had steadily increased it's pulsing and whirling over the last few days until it felt like it was careening wildly inside it's chamber, slamming around without a way to escape.

      It was painful, and did nothing to ease the anxiety he felt. Thundercracker and Skywarp had done their best to calm him, taking him for several flights between meetings and planning sessions. They'd even spent the previous night in his chambers with him, bringing in make-shift cots to recharge just outside his berthroom.

      That might have been helpful if he'd not spent most of the night online, afraid to relax or recharge lest he cry out in the dark and alarm them. He couldn't trust his frame not to betray his upset in anything less than a fully alert state. Finally, exhaustion had taken him, and he'd known nothing until the next morning.

      Blueshift had been keeping a respectful distance, and the red jet wasn't sure if that made things better or worse. He wanted nothing more than to crawl into the other Seeker's lap and let go of his worries for a while. Despite that desire, half of Blueshift's pings went unanswered.

      Currently, the prince was pacing his chambers, wings fluttering in agitation. He simply could not settle his spark. Going to Nightfire with his problems was not possible. The events of the next few months – and possibly the entirety of his aeons-long life – were already set in motion. This was not a time for cold thrusters or doubts.

      In an attempt to slow his overwrought mind, Starscream ran through the schedule of events for the next night. The ball would be held in the Grand Hall with his creators presiding over the festivities. The night would be an excruciatingly long series of elaborately-worded speeches from him, his creators, his suitors, their creators, and he was expected to dance with each of the mechs courting him.

      He might have felt better able to handle the event if he could over-indulge in high-grade – the finest royal vintages would be served – but he had to be flawless in his performance. This was the first ball where the Cybertronian press would be given complete access. Nightfire had carefully managed the press and allowed only a few quick shots of the entrances of the royal party and some of the dances at previous events.

      Not even the smallest misstep would be allowed – or forgiven – tomorrow.

      However, Starscream could admit to himself that he was more than a little excited to see Blueshift again. If only he could whisk the mech away to a dancefloor, a real dancefloor where mechs cut loose and set themselves free a song at a time.

      For now, his chambers would be his dancefloor for yet another lonely night. His elaborate sound system had sat unused since his return from Kaon, and he had the night to himself. He pinged it, and his favorite playlist was still queued up.

      A hint of a smile danced on the Seeker's lips as a driving beat filled his room. He nodded his head along as he tried out a few tentative bounces on his thruster-tips. Spinning in a series of smooth, gliding steps, a bright laugh bubbled out of him.

      The music went louder at his command, and he shimmied across the room and then zig-zagged back, thrusters swinging out. Skipping forward, hopping back, red hips swaying, the prince drained all his anxiety from his spark and let the music fill it instead.

      He scolded himself for ever stopping dancing this way, and he promised that he would never forget what happiness it brought him. His first act as Emirate might be to outlaw formal dances, and decree that any Vosian could dance any way they wanted. He laughed wildly at the idea.

      Wondering absently what Blueshift would think if he saw the jet now, the Seeker jumped on his berth and kicked all the cushions and covers off. He jumped back down, spinning across the room again, imagining he was swinging the blue flier along with him, a look of shock on his pale face.

      Maybe his lover would just enjoy watching from the sidelines. The red Seeker bit his lip, and stroked a hand down his cockpit and over his hip, his little fantasy turning him on unexpectedly. He'd love to put on a show for the polite mech and rev his engines up in front of others.

      Imagining that pale face flushing dark with embarrassment and illicit excitement, Starscream danced with his wings arched high and his aft jutting out. The seeker laughed and danced and laughed, feeling utterly relaxed.

      So, it wasn't at all a surprise when Megatron slid past his lowered guard and entered his thoughts, a lascivious grin in silver replacing a bashful smile in blue. Starscream didn't resist it. The miner was the best dance partner he'd ever had. The way his big frame had moved, each step confident without being showy. The prince's engines rev'd higher, his fans keeping pace with them.

      His hands slid over his frame, his mind easily changing their texture from smooth to rough. He gripped his plating harshly like Megatron had done, and his vents caught, spinning himself further into his lustful imaginings.

      Song after song played, and Starscream filled with a giddiness that was almost dizzying. He felt over-charged and didn't care. At the worst, he'd feel a little more tired in the morning, but at least he'd actually rest instead of worrying the night away fitfully in his berth.

      In his altered state, it seemed natural to him that contacting Megaton was a wonderful idea. The jet didn't have his commline code, but he was the Crown Prince of Vos! Surely he could get the code for a miner with a name as unique at Megatron's. It wasn't as if his name was – what was his orange friend's name – Impactor. There were probably dozens of mechs in the mines with similarly coarse and unoriginal names like that. There was only one Megatron. The Seeker smiled at that thought.

      And Starscream knew just the mech to get him the code he wanted. His blue trine-mate was quite popular among their peers, and favors were thrown at him for an interface until they piled up. The Seeker wasn't any more promiscuous than another other flier, but his subsonic discharges during particularly intense overloads made him a sought-after partner.

      The prince chuckled to himself. Thundercracker racked up favors almost as fast a Skywarp racked up prank victims. Surely, the blue jet could call in a few and get his trine-leader a simple ten-digit code. Starscream sent his friend a query ping, and settled himself on his berth as he waited.

      Thundercracker was slow to reply, and the red jet's thoughts returned to Megatron. What he wouldn't give to hear his voice. His name spoken in that dark tone undid him every time. It undid his spike housing this time, and Seeker stroked his stiff spike lazily.

      Megatron. His blocky, simple build designed for strength and stamina was so very unlike Starscream's frame, which was the result of thousands upon thousands of years of selecting for not only flight supremacy but beauty. As the Pride of Vos, Starscream was not only the greatest living Seeker, but also the most beautiful. Without dispute – even from towers long considered rivals for the monarchy – the Crown Prince was considered the pinnacle of Seeker design.

      His narrow, flexible mid-section allowed for faster transformations and superior aerodynamics – and fit perfectly in the miner's large, blunt hands when Megatron pulled him close to ravage him with denta and glossa.

      Thin, sharply angled wings gave the prince maximum lift, and his flight stability was second to none due to the abundance of sensors filling each appendage – both the delicacy of the metal and richness of sensory input made the texture of Megatron's plating upon them an exquisite tactile experience.

      Strong, sculpted thighs gave his disproportionately powerful thrusters added support during hypersonic flights when Starscream pushed them to their limits – and they hooked ever so snugly around solid black hips to draw Megatron tightly against his frame.

      Oh, Starscream was beautiful, and he craved the unremarkable utilitarian frame of one Megatron of Tarn above him, below him, filling him, _possessing him_. To Vosians, it was a perverse lust, one of the strictest taboos in his culture, and he surrendered himself to it, subconsciously fisting his spike to the beat of the song, driving his frame into overload.

      "Megatron...." The name was a hiss as the prince's struts and joints tensed. His hips snapped up, forcing his back into a straining arch and pinning his wings against the cushions beneath him where they beat frantically. Charge surged though his cables and circuits, spilling static from his mouth and transfluid from his spike, creating a slippery friction for the final moments of burning bliss wracking his frame.

      Sinking down into his berth, the jet's vents heaved as his systems recalibrated. And then he began to laugh. He tipped his head up to survey the mess on his plating and berth, and letting it fall back onto the cushion, laughed even harder.

      Starscream almost failed to notice the ping appear in his message queue. The name attached sobered him quickly.

      Thundercracker.

      And the prince groaned aloud. Had he really pinged his trine-mate in hopes of conning him into locating Megatron for him? He pulled his clean hand down his face. It wouldn't do, it just _wouldn't_.

      He replied with glyphs of refusal and apology, then got up to rinse his frame off, setting his sound system to a less frenetic volume.

      As he scrubbed at his plating, he decided his next date with Blueshift would be a dance party for two, and he would share all his favorite songs with the blue mech. The thought buoyed his spark with hope and anticipation until he slipped into recharge, and held fast through most of the next morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this was a small morsel, but perhaps delicious enough to make up for the portion size.
> 
> Give me what you've got, readers: gold stars, rotten tomatoes, happy dances. I adore all of you that have followed this waltz of woe and worrisome infatuation and asked for more. You are the atmosphere beneath my wings.
> 
> Here is the inspo for this chapter's dance scene:  
> http://www.joblo.com/videos/movie-clips/napoleon-dance
> 
> Greatest solo dance scene ever.


	4. Chapter 3, Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: explicit sticky and implied Skywarp.

      It was nearly mid-day before Starscream's mood slid back into nauseating anxiety. He caught himself looking longingly out windows throughout the day, and it didn't escape his notice that all those windows faced east toward Kaon.

      He'd already checked on the final preparations in the Grand Hall enough times to irritate all the mechs working in there. His speech was memorized, as were the speeches of his creators for good measure. He had double-checked his etiquette and protocol, and now all there was to do was wait.

      The prince had never been good at waiting, pinging his trine-mates to join him in the library where he'd holed up for the last few hours. A  _ vop _ and a flash marked their arrival just a few moments after his ping vanished from his outgoing queue.

      Thundercracker and Skywarp sat on either side of him, instinctively choosing their assigned wing positions on the large couch. Their hands immediately sought out his wings, which they stroked in tandem intending to soothe their trine-leader.

      Starscream shook them off impatiently. He stood, wings reflecting the tension in his frame and mind. Balling up a hand, he pressed his fist against his lips as he spun to face the other Seekers.

      His trine-mates took in the rictus of dread on his face and exchanged a knowing look.

      “You've got this, Starscream,” Skywarp spoke first. “We know you've got your speech down, and the Emirates will be their usual selves.”

      “Its not that I'm worried about,” the prince blurted from behind his clenched fist.

      “Then what? Blueshift,” asked his blue trine-mate.

      “Yes. No. All of it. Everyone.”

      Skywarp made a sour face. “That Fluxjam...I don't like him even though we used to 'face constantly before you came back from Kaon.”

      Blue and red jets fixed the purple with a look.

      “He's fun to frag, not to talk to,” Skywarp muttered. “Why'd you put him on the short list anyway?”

      “You're not helping, Skywarp.” Thundercracker's voice held a note that his trine-mate knew meant he needed to quiet down. The blue Seeker turned to Starscream. “If Blueshift is the mech you want, then why the cold thrusters?”

      His trine-leader's stricken look answered before he could speak.

      “Is he the mech you want?”

      A pause. “Yes.”

      “Starscream. You can't have Megatron...,” he began, and Starscream's face crumpled. “Besides being a grounder, what do you even know about him? You're infatuated with someone you barely know, and haven't even spoken to in months. And barely spoke with to begin with.”

      The prince's face darkened with anger. “You would judge me for that?”

      Thundercracker held up his hands. “I'm simply saying that a week of wild 'facing isn't a basis for a relationship. Especially not when you're the Crown Prince of Vos and he's a miner you met on his leave. Its not about frame-types,” he added calmly.

      That seemed to pacify the red Seeker. Then he began pacing the room. “This was all Nightfire's idea, and I was stupid to go along with it. I should have said no. I should have– ”

      Skywarp stood to block Starscream's path, and slow his impending rant. “We've seen the way you are with Blueshift. He's good for you. When you're together, you're happy and relaxed, but your plating starts bunching as soon as he's gone. Maybe Blueshift is the mech you need.”

      “That's what my creators think, too. Not in those words, but they definitely feel he's a good match for me.”

      “Its the process that's got your cables kinked, not actually being with him,” Skywarp agreed. “But you can handle this. You're the Pride of Vos.” The last bit was said in a sing-song voice and accompanied by a silly face. He then teleported to avoid Starscream's exasperated swat.

      “Skywarp is right. You've been amazing despite the toll this has taken on you.” The blue Seeker stood to join his prince. “We can see how hard you've struggled to be the heir your creators have always wanted. We're proud of you. Vos is proud of you.” He smiled gently.

      Continuing, Thundercracker said: “Get through tonight's festivities, and you'll have some time to rest and regroup. We'll do our best to keep Nightfire off you and do more to help with your duties.”

      Starscream returned his smile. “You two have already done so much. I can't ask for more, can I?”

      “We're bound to you. And we love you. We want to see you happy.”

      “If you can keep that shuttle off my back-strut for just a day, I would owe you more than I can say.”

      Skywarp laughed from his corner. “I can manage that.” His optics dimmed as he fell deep into thought. “Stay away from the commissary for the next three days,” he said absently, his infamous manic grin stretching his lips.

 

*****

 

      Later that night, Starscream stood at the entrance to the Grand Hall behind his creators and a host of advisors, noblemechs, and guards of the Royal Tower. He was polished to a silky glow as were the Emirates. Muffled music seeped through the door, and his party was waiting on a pause to make their entrance.

      Thundercracker and Skywarp were at their designated positions at his back, both giving him encouraging smiles when he looked back at them. When he faced forward again, Sunflare was watching him. He smiled at his carrier, who nodded back, and signaled to the forward trine of Royal Guards as the music stopped.

      The ornate doors swung wide, and the group of fliers advanced as one, wings held high and proud as their names and titles were announced to loud applause.

      When the light from the hall fell on Starscream, a rush of chatter ran under the sound of cheers, and he lifted his head even higher, his lips shifting into a smirk.

      For as anxious as he'd been, he did love these parts of his royal duties: the admiration and acknowledgment of his people did wonders for his mood.

      The mech at the door shouted: “Crown Prince Starscream, creation of Emirates Sunflare and Firestorm, heir apparent, Seventh Seekerlord of the Seventh Dynasty, Wing Commander of the 21 st Combat Division, honors graduate of the Vosian War Academy and Iacon Science Academy in the fields of....”

      The mech continued and Starscream chuckled to himself as he nodded to the assembled mechs. He forgot he had so many titles; most heralds stopped after Seventh Seekerlord unless it was a military event.

      He followed his creators onto the dais at far end of the hall and took his seat to their left with his trine-mates sitting in the last seats to his left. The rest of their party sat to the right of the Emirates and at smaller tables below that of the Emirates.  
  
      The final mechs of the royal party were announced and the applause slowed. Firestorm stood to make his formal welcome speech, which according to custom would require many specific phrases and acknowledgments. It was excruciating to sit through despite his sire's beautiful voice and eloquent delivery. 

      Starscream sat as patiently as he could and struggled not to call over a server to fill his glass. He had to be exemplary tonight, and he would not be that if he got over-charged before it was even his turn to speak.

      Sunflare spoke after the light applause following Firestorm's speech ended. Nightfire spoke, as did a few other important mechs of the Royal Tower. The prince felt his attention beginning to wander as the lords of Tower Lumenpulse spoke. Their creation Fluxjam, an academically gifted white-and-blue Seeker – and apparently one of Skywarp's old berthmates – that Starscream found stuffy despite his intriguing conversations, was tall and sleek, conventionally handsome by flier standards, and a turbohound in the berth if you listened to Skywarp.

      The prince kept his smile polite and returned Fluxjam's bow with a nod.

      The process was repeated for the other towers: Boltstrike, Windswift, and, lastly, Skychaser. When Blueshift stood in introduction, Starscream caught his optics, and it was a monumental task to keep his expression cool when his spark was hammering fit to burst through it's chamber.

      The four towers were seated at tables arranged below the dais, and Blueshift was still close enough that the red jet could see the smirk in his golden optics that didn't reach his lips. Goodwill and publicity and traditions be damned, Starscream wanted this mech to himself and didn't want to wait another few months to allow the situation to play out.

      Megatron was the furthest thing from his mind as the prince finally stood to make his speech.

      Every optic was riveted to him as he began, desire naked on the faces of more than the mechs who would be courting him.

      “Fliers of Vos,” he called, his voice carrying through the hall. “Be welcomed to the Royal Tower and accept the hospitality of the Emirates and myself.”

      “Tonight, four Seekers of the finest towers in Vos shall present themselves as suitors as per the grand and venerable traditions of Vosian courtship in the interest of becoming my bondmate.” At his gesture, the four mechs stood.

      “Fluxjam of Tower Lumenpulse, Shattershock of Tower Boltstrike, Echoflash of Tower Wingswift, and Blueshift of Tower Skychaser.” Starscream felt accomplished as he continued without betraying the strain on his spark.

      It was difficult for any Vosian to disguise their feelings as their wings gave most of them away with even the slightest movements that all fliers recognized. As such, it was easy for their guests to interpret the excitement lifting the red Seeker's wings as general excitement about the festivities, not his actual excitement at being near Blueshift again.

      He spoke for some time, recounting the history of his tower, the accomplishments of his creators, his studies at the academies, all things meant to reflect his desire for a worthy mate, and, with his trademark smirk playing at the edge of his lips, grind the supremacy of the dynasty to which he was heir in the faces of rival towers. At last, he came to the final formal requirement: his promise for equal consideration.

      “To my suitors: I will keep my spark clear, that only the best and most worthy of you may claim it and be bound to me for all time. We will rule Vos together with love by our wills under the law. So do I, Starscream, creation of Sunflare and Firestorm, Seventh Seekerlord of the Seventh Dynasty, the Pride of Vos, promise.”

      Then he sat to thunderous applause and finally did motion a server over to fill his glass. Thundercracker nudged his thruster under the table, and he and Skywarp were both beaming. To his right, his creators were giving him equally warm smiles. With his first sip, Starscream basked in the warm tingling in his tank and the appraisal of his loved ones. His night had just become much more tolerable.

      The speeches continued which each prospect formally declaring his intentions and gifts being delivered to the dais to be discreetly cleared away by servants. The prince would open them later, though he was only really interested in what Blueshift chose for him.

      Fluxjam was eloquent and stuffy as expected. Shattershock, a powerfully-built black-and-red Seeker, earned a few laughs as was typical. Starscream's green-and-silver suitor, Echoflash, was as charmingly garrulous as ever. The prince nodded, and laughed, and applauded each mech, but his world ground to a halt as Blueshift stood. The blue-and-green jet's gleaming plating pulled Starscream's optics across his broad chest, down to his thick, solid thighs and back up to his wide shoulders, and at last, his pale face, so serious at first glance.

      The Seeker's golden optics shone with determination and his carefully chosen words sent the red jet's systems into a spin. He could never pinpoint just what it was about how Blueshift spoke that made such formal language sound so alluring – flirty, even – but Starscream knew that it was just for him.

      And that engaged his interface protocols faster than any crude proposition ever could.

      As Blueshift concluded his speech and sat, Thundercracker leaned over to quietly say, “You weren't obvious. Good job.” Starscream snorted and took another small sip of his high-grade.

      The music resumed as servers moved between tables filling glasses and depositing trays of energon treats, all intricately shaped and flavored with exotic metals and minerals.

      Starscream helped himself to a few of his favorites as he looked over the crowd of mechs. Every tower had sent a envoy; the members of each envoy saying much about the towers represented. Certain rival towerlords were absent, which was no great loss to Starscream. Others were present most likely to see for themselves who Starscream had chosen, and to eat and drink for free.

      The commlines would be choked with gossip the next day without a doubt.

      After a short chat with his trine-mates, Starscream left the dais to mingle with the attendees and greet a few acquaintances and important noblemechs. The red Seeker worked his way across the Grand Hall, conspicuously avoiding the areas where his suitors were also socializing.

      Shattershock was surrounded by a group of laughing fliers, which attracted Starscream's attention a few times, and the big Seeker shot him a wink when their optics met. An arched brow was the response, and the prince continued on his way.

      Thundercracker and Skywarp joined him a few times, and Starscream felt himself begin to relax. The bulk of tedious speeches were over, and there was just drinking and dancing ahead. The last courtship ball the red jet had attended had devolved into what amounted to a more expensive Academy social event with over-charged mechs stumbling about or falling into stasis under tables.

      As this was a royal ball, Starscream set his second glass of high-grade down unfinished and made his way to the dancefloor. The Emirates declined to lead the first dance and Skywarp and Thundercracker stepped onto the floor in their stead.

      The dancing was less formal in terms of whom Starscream could choose as a partner from his suitors, but he decided to let them come to him. Shattershock, the most brazen and audacious of the four, immediately stepped next to the prince and requested the dance.

      As the music began and the pair moved around the floor, the black-and-red jet asked in a voice not much quieter than his usual boom: “When will I have my prince to myself?”

      Starscream laughed. “I like that you get to the point.”

      “Then, tonight?”

      The red Seeker laughed again. “Too soon, and you know that.”

      “This is all by your choice, Starscream,” Shattershock said. “Surely you didn't choose me for my military medals...or my jokes.” He flared his plating slightly, which made his frame with it's many magnetized badges look even more impressive.

      The prince considered him for a moment. “No, I didn't,” he agreed, deciding on honesty. “At least not entirely.”

      “Then, tonight?”

      “Soon.” 

      “First or last, I'm the mech you'll choose.” His smile darkened, and his black hand tightened on Starscream's blue. He abruptly spun the red jet about and pulled him wing to canopy, lowering his voice to barely above a rumble.

      “I'll have you screaming my name before these pukes could even pop your panel.”

      Starscream could barely worry about suppressing the shiver than ran through his frame before Shattershock spun him back out to a polite distance. Then he recovered himself and laughed as if the brawny Seeker dancing with him had said one of his customary one-liners.

      The black jet chuckled, his red optics not leaving Starscream's face.

      “Keep that in mind, my prince.” He bowed smugly as the song ended, and swaggered away.

      Watching Shattershock cross the floor, Starscream caught Blueshift's optics. The blue Seeker's face was unreadable even at that short distance.

      Their brief moment was interrupted by Echoflash, asking for the next dance ever so politely – and with ever so many words – his slim, compact frame boasting a confidence most of his speech rarely did.  
  
      “P-prince Starscream, may I, uh, say that you, hmm, look resplendent tonight, I-I mean, of course you do, you always do. I-I mean especially, um, s-stunning for a m-mech such as yourself.” The small jet beamed brightly as he offered his hand, giving Starscream a courteous bow. “M-may I-I have this, um, dance?” 

      Starscream couldn't help himself as he smiled and took the waiting green hand.  
  
      Echoflash's odd demeanor was generally attributed to a flight system capable of out-maneuvering nearly every flier in Vos. The constant flow of information from his system for interpretation by his processors seemed to keep him constantly over-clocked, even in social situations. But his unfailing gentleness and genuine good-nature did much to balance out his stammering, hesitant speaking.

      And the green-and-silver Seeker's superior agility in the sky translated well onto the dancefloor where he swirled his prince around with light, quick steps. Starscream worked hard to keep up, and soon the two jets had worked out a system of nods and tips of their heads to signal the next few movements.

      His systems warming from the dance and his partner's unexpected talent, Starscream grinned wildly.  
  
      “S-sometimes its easier for m-me, um, to just m-move. I-I know I'm not, uh, always the b-best at talking,” Echoflash said as the song concluded, returning Starscream's smile. As a reply, the prince motioned for another song at a faster tempo. Echoflash laughed delightedly and pulled the red jet into a series of bouncing, skipping steps that took them gliding across the floor.  
  
      Their clasped hands rising and falling as they spun, the two Seekers pushed themselves faster yet, wings raised high, back-struts arching into dips, and the floor cleared around them as the other mechs stopped to watch them.  
  
      They paid no attention, locked into their movements in much the same way Seekers locked onto their targets on the battlefield. Blue optics held red, and betrayed none of their owner's characteristic nervousness. Echoflash was in his element, moving instinctively, avoiding the crowd gathering at the edges of the dancefloor, and gently encouraging Starscream's frame to bend and twist into beautiful lines.

      The song ended to immediate applause, and the jets broke apart to face the cheering mechs, both venting heavily. The green Seeker bowed politely as Starscream swept a hand up in acknowledgment and gestured to him loftily with the other.

      The Emirates stepped forward out of the crowd, both clapping heartily.

      “Well done! Well done,” Firestorm called, renewing the applause. “Would you grace us with another dance, Echoflash?”  
  
      “You honor m-me with, er, your request, m-my Lord. I-I'll need a, um, b-bit of a rest,” he said. “Prince Starscream put m-me, uh, through m-my paces.” He grinned as mechs laughed.  
  
      “A well deserved rest. I have not seen dancing like that in many, many years,” Sunflare added, bringing a Firestorm a glass of high-grade. At a gesture, a servant appeared and presented the dancers with glasses of their own. “To Echoflash and Tower Windswift, may their thrusters always be so light, and their descendants' sparks always be so bright.” Glasses were raised and clinked in toast.

      “And to the Pride of Vos, our creation, that your mate bring out your most true self and inspire you to even greater heights.”

      Starscream nodded graciously and took a sip from his glass as his green-and-silver suitor exclaimed, “H-here, here,” blue optics so very wide and hopeful.

      The commlines would probably explode with gossip tomorrow.

      Let them, he thought to himself. Leaning casually toward Echoflash, he said: “Come for a flight with my trine soon.”  
  
      The green jet's optics paled with shock, then deepened with excitement. “To, um, greater h-heights.” He raised his glass again in mock-toast. “Thank you, Starscream. I-it would be a, uh, g-great pleasure, without a d-doubt of course, to j-join you and your trine-m-mates.”

      “To greater heights.” The red jet took a long swallow of high-grade, and let his mind wander a bit as Echoflash watched him. He'd put the small Seeker through his paces on that flight. The elite trine had been working on some complex new maneuvers; what better way to put them to the test than with one of the most nimble fliers in Vos.

      His smile took on a wolfish cast as he stepped away, and only grew wider as he spotted Blueshift in the crowd. The Emirates claimed the next dance for themselves and guests were moving aside to make space for the couple.

      The red jet stopped alongside the stout Seeker. “You haven't asked for a dance.”

      “Its best to let the others tire themselves out so that I can swoop in and have you all to myself.”

      “I might be tired out by then, too,” Starscream joked.

      Blueshift's face turned serious, and he said quietly: “Would that I could lend you my strength should that be the case.”

      Starscream gaped at the blue-and-green jet, and then snorted in spite of himself. “I adore you,” he whispered. “And would that you could.” Between a brilliant set of dances and Blueshift's flirty formality, the prince didn't resist the charge building in his frame.

      “Would that you could _right now_ ,” he growled.

      “That wouldn't be prudent, my prince,” the blue Seeker chided, his pleasure at riling his lover up apparent in his voice.

      Grumbling as he finished his drink, Starscream muttered: “Don't remind me. I still have hours to go with this.”  
  
      “As you wish. Your creators are beautiful dancers.”

      The prince blinked at the sudden change of subjects, then, “This is their favorite song. It played at their bonding ceremony.”  
  
      “Such romantics.”

      “In a way.”

      “Did it pass down to their creation?”  
  
      “In a way.” Starscream smirked at Blueshift who gave a small chuckle.

      “Show me,” the blue jet challenged.  
  
      “Oh, I will.”

      “I look forward to it, my prince. For now, share this next dance?”  
  
      Starscream looked up to see his creators concluding their dance to loud applause. Firestorm gave him a sly smile as the two Seekerlords stepped off the floor hand in hand “I would be delighted.”

      A slow song began – a more modern, less mournful Vosian ballad – and Blueshift caught Starscream close, urging him back into a dip, then pulling him up into a smart turn.

      The red jet already felt breathless, pressed so close to his lover. When Blueshift slid a hand across his mid-section to guide him into a set of slow, smooth spins, Starscream choked back a gasp.

      He looked into the golden optics just inches from his and could not look away. He felt charged up to the point where he was sure his plating was sparking. And still he could not break his gaze from the smirk that did not reach the small, pleased smile on Blueshift's lips.

      The pair moved between the other dancers on the floor, circling the edges and then cutting through the middle. At final refrain, the blue-and-green Seeker pivoted the red around, easing Starscream's wings against his canopy for just a few beats, their optics meeting over a red shoulder.

      Spinning the prince back out, Blueshift then pulled Starscream close and leaned him down in a long last dip. If they held that position for too long, neither jet cared. As they slowly straightened, golden optics slid to Starscream's lips, and Starscream wished that his blue lover would kiss him right there on the dancefloor.

      Kiss him and carry him away from this farce of a courtship ball, carry him to somewhere where they could finally share their sparks. Starscream did love Blueshift, and Skywarp was right that process was stressing him, not the idea of bonding to the blue Seeker.

      Feeling a strange peace come over his spark, Starscream broke contact with his lover, and gave him a small smile. He could wait; he would see this through properly and properly legitimize Blueshift as his mate.

      Returning his smile with a hint of curiosity, Blueshift gave the red Seeker a little bow and returned to his tower's table.

      Starscream turned, wings wide and high, and scanned the crowd for a tall, slender white-and-blue jet for his next dance.

 

*****

 

      As the last of the honored guests rocketed away from the Royal Tower, Starscream finally stepped into the entrance of the Grand Hall to give his final interview of the night. The prince was exhausted having joyfully danced the night away with any mech that asked.

      Pulling his plating in close and raising his wings high, the Pride of Vos summoned all his will to give one last performance. Lights flashed on and cameras began recording while mechs shouted for his attention.

      “Prince Starscream! How do you like your prospects?”

      “I chose them, and they are the best of the best.” The red jet hoped that sounded less bitter than he felt; he truly wanted to skip this part of his night despite of his earlier good mood.

      “Any hints on who you'll chose?”

      “The mech who wins my spark, of course.” He tugged the corner of his lips up into a smirk, and the effort nearly caused him to lose his smile completely.

      “When is your first official date, and who will it be with?”

      “All of that will be announced soon.” He raised his hands in what he hoped was a gracious, apologetic manner. “That's all for now. I need my rest to stay this handsome.” A chorus of laughter greeted him, and reporters turned to their cameramechs to sign off for the night.

      Starscream stepped back into the Grand Hall to check on the clean up of the festivities, and have a few words with various mechs of his tower. Nightfire gave him an appreciative nod from where he was supervising a crew of fliers, and Thundercracker and Skywarp hurried toward him as soon has the red jet was free.

      “All that worry for nothing!” Skywarp patted his arm. “You were great!”

      “I feel like I'm about to go into stasis,” the prince groaned.

      “Then go rest. We'll help Nightfire here,” Thundercracker urged with a gentle push toward the door. “And we'll check on you tomorrow.”

      Sighing wearily, Starscream left the Grand Hall and found the hallways empty; the reporters were being escorted out of Vos by the Royal Guard, and the rest of the mechs of his tower that were not engaged in closing down the party were already shut away in their rooms.

      Shuffling slowly toward his rooms, the prince felt his entire frame sag with exhaustion. He was going to recharge long and hard that night, but he had to make it to his berth first.

      He had just opened the door to his rooms and was stepping inside when a ping reached him. As tired as he felt, he couldn't stop his spark from racing when he saw that it was from Blueshift. That sneaky mech. It was a simple query, which he answered immediately.

      A location ping came back. It was the small flight deck on the floor above Starscream's rooms. He couldn't possibly sneak Blueshift in from the flight deck even with most of the tower asleep. The red jet hurried to the window in his berthroom and pinged his location.

      He didn't wait long until the light from thrusters slid into his view and his blue lover was hovering in his window, a rakish smile on his face. Starscream swung the glass panel aside, and then stepped back to allow Blueshift room to float in.

      “Why do I feel like a youngling sneaking his first conjunx,” the prince asked laughingly as he shut the window.

      “Its like that in a way.” Blueshift's voice was teasing and when Starscream turned to him, the blue Seeker caught him up in a long, slow kiss. When the kiss ended, both jets were venting hard, optics locked in a heated stare. Blueshift slid a hand up to Starscream's cheek, cupping it lightly, his thumb brushing a soft stroke over dark lips. “I've missed you.”

      And their lips clashed again, harder and more desperately than before. Neither Seeker could hold back the small sounds of hunger and need that slipped out of their mouths. Pushing any last concerns out of his mind, Starscream wrapped his arms around Blueshift's mid-section and pulled him back until his wings met the wall.

      “Here. Now,” he whispered urgently against parted lips. The red jet made sure his panel slid back with a snap. Another snap sounded and the blue-and-green Seeker was pushing inside him slowly, his entire frame trembling with restraint.

      “Starscream.” Golden optics held red as Blueshift seated himself fully inside Starscream, a look of slack-jawed bliss on his face.

      Bringing his venting under control, Starscream gave his lover a perverse grin. “I've wanted you this way since the first night we met. Don't disappoint me. Put your back-strut into it.”

      Blueshift laughed breathlessly, returning the look Starscream gave him. “I aim to please, my Prince,” he replied with a hard thrust that had the red Seeker's optics flickering and his wings shuddering.

      “Primus, yes.” Lifting his leg to wrap it around Blueshift's mid-section, Starscream startled when the blue jet caught his thigh and slid his arm under it, pulling his leg higher and spreading him wider. “Oh Primus, yes!”

      The blue-and-green Seeker pressed his weight against Starscream, pinning him against the wall behind them, and began a driving pace that filled the room with the scraping of metal on metal and glass against glass. Blueshift was merciless and Starscream gave himself up to the rhythm of their frames chasing overload.

      He rocked against Blueshift as much as he was able, the slightly taller Seeker angling him so that his thruster-tip barely touched the ground. With a small hop, he lifted his leg and Blueshift caught it easily, shifting it over his arm as he had done with the first. At last, his full weight on his lover's arms had his spike hitting his deepest sensor nodes, and Starscream felt his peak quickly approaching.

      He clung to Blueshift and cried out wordlessly as his focus narrowed to the wet friction in his valve and the building heat around his panel. And then he was overloading with a snap of joints and cables, static spitting from his vocalizer, hands clawing at Blueshift's shoulders, fans stuttering.

      Blueshift followed just moments later, his frame shuddering as a strangled cry escaped his lips. He sank to his knees, dragging Starscream down with him, scraping his back-strut further. Slumping against the red frame in his arms, Blueshift laughed, and nuzzled at Starscream's neck.

      When he finally spoke, Blueshift's voice was barely above a whisper: “You are so beautiful.”

      Starscream huffed, and pushed at his lover's chest-plating to meet his optics. “I'm glad you had already planned to let the others tire themselves out. I needed you.”

      “I know, my love.” They kissed. “You hadn't been answering my messages.”

      “It was all overwhelming me.”

      “Soon, my love. Soon, this will be over and done with.”

      “Not soon enough,” the red Seeker said with a frown. Then, he smiled and ducked his head to place a sweet kiss on Blueshift's lips. “But we have tonight.”

      The two jets kissed again. The blue-and-green Seeker pulled his arms from under Starscream's legs and wrapped them around his mid-section. Pushing back from the wall, he brought the prince with him, thrusters and aft scraping on the floor. Starscream laughed as his lover leaned back and he found himself pressed canopy to canopy on top of Blueshift.

      He lifted himself up slightly to look back into those golden optics and at the soft smile on his face, and felt his own dark face mirror the pale one below him.

      “Since you are the mech I choose, I want to show you something. Some might find it foolish, but I know you won't as this is what helped me pass so many lonely times in my life.”

      Blueshift's smile shifted in curiosity, and he sat up and turned as Starscream stood and stepped to the center of the room.

      Starscream smiled again, and offlined his optics. “Just sit there, you don't have to do anything. Just watch for now.” He cued up his playlist from the night before, leaving the volume low enough so that he could easily speak over it. 

      As he began his steps, he felt the same peace that always washed over as he danced fill him again, a mirror to the peace he finally realized he could stay the course with Blueshift. Slow, gliding steps took him around the room. Small spins lifted his spark even higher. Then he spoke:

      “I never had siblings. I didn't have many friends. My creators were always busy. I don't remember when I started dancing, but it has always made me feel less alone.” He glanced at Blueshift as he twirled past the Seeker still seated on the floor. The blue jet was still smiling.

      “Sometimes, dancing felt like the only real thing in my life. All my worries, all the bad times, when my studies at the Academy were driving me crazy, I'd come in here and let it all go.”

      “I was dancing last night, and I decided that I would ban traditional dancing in Vos for ever.” Blueshift laughed from his place on the floor, and Starscream joined him. “This makes me so happy, like you do, and I wanted to share it with you.”

      “I love you, Starscream.” His blue-and-green lover was watching him with naked adoration on his face. “And I could completely support banning those dances.”

      The next song came up, and Starscream threw himself into his movements now that he was sure Blueshift didn't find his secret passion odd. He pushed the volume up until he could feel the beat in his spark. It wasn't a terribly fast song and it built slowly, which made it easier for him show off his frame as he danced and keep tabs on Blueshift's reactions.

      The red jet swung his hips in wide sweeps that pushed his aft out and caught the light in the smears on his thighs. Sure enough, Blueshift's face was flushing darker with each grind and thrust of Starscream's hips and each calculated quiver of his wings.

      He slowly made his way to the overheating Seeker, his optics locked on his lover's. With a graceful spin and twist perfectly in time with the beat, the ret jet bent and offered his hand. Blueshift lurched slightly as he took the blue hand and rose, and he barely had time to recover before Starscream kissed him and then pulled him toward his berth.

      “Anyway you want, claim my wings,” he said right into a blue audial. “I'm not your prince tonight, I'm just yours. Leave me  _ thoroughly _ ravished.”

      Blueshift chuckled; it was a dark sound. Starscream felt his charge ratchet up instantly. A hard kiss followed, and then the red Seeker was spun and pushed onto his berth. Before he could properly settle himself, he was caught by the hips and held on his hands and knees.

      A soft puff of air was his only warning and then Blueshift's mouth was at his panel, glossa tracing the sticky seams, warm and insistent. He groaned aloud as he retracted his panel and that same glossa slipped inside his valve.

      His surprise and the intensity of Blueshift's motions mixed and Starscream's charge swelled rapidly. When his lover whispered, “Always wanted to taste you,” right against his valve, the red jet overloaded hard.

      Blue hands clamped down on his hips and held him as he bucked and twisted, the sensations of Blueshift's glossa against his valve becoming too intense. Starscream cried out and clawed at his berth, tossing his head. The blue-and-green Seeker continued, albeit at a slower pace, until Starscream stopped struggling and began urging him on again.

      Blueshift licked and suckled the red Seeker through two more overloads, pressing his fingers inside for the final one, almost losing his own control as Starscream's valve clenched impossibly tight around his fingers and his glossa.

      The blue Seeker pulled back and the red immediately collapsed on the berth, legs sliding out from underneath him to awkwardly drop to the floor. He hummed to himself absently as his systems recalibrated.

      “Now you're beginning to look ravished.”

      Starscream's vocalizer merely hissed static from his place face-down on the berth. One arm was caught beneath his canopy and the hand of the other merely flapped uselessly in response.

      He felt his aft being lifted and his thighs pushed apart. The berth dipped from Blueshift's weight, and his thick spike was nudging his valve. Starscream angled his wings in assent, and his lover was inside him with a long, slow slick slide.

      Blueshift kept that frustrating pace, his intakes sighs and his ex-vents groans. Eventually, Starscream recovered enough to begin meeting his lover's thrusts. Pushing himself back up this hands and knees, the red Seeker tried to force the blue to speed up his movements.

      Tightening his grip on red hips, Blueshift refused to comply. “Patience, Starscream.”  
  
      Starscream growled and huffed, but allowed Blueshift to keep control. 

      Then a blue hand left Starscream's hips and slid under his chest-plating, pulling him upright. For the second time that night, the red Seeker found himself pressed wings-to-canopy with Blueshift and he leaned back without worry this time.  
  
      “I wish you had a mirror in here.”  
  
      “What? I do,” the red jet spluttered, utterly confused.

      “Hmm. Too far. Not going to stop.”  
  
      “What?”  
  
      “I wanted to watch you overload like this,” Blueshift whispered, trailing fingers lightly at the seam between Starscream's canopy and plating. A shaky moan was the response, and then he lifted his arms to wrap behind the blue jet's head.

      “Next time. Don't stop.” He pulled Blueshift into a kiss, and the Seeker didn't falter in his thrusts or his strokes, but he did increase the intensity of his movements.

      Gradually, the thrusts came hard and deep, and blue fingers dug into seams, and Starscream couldn't stop his canopy from retracting and plating shifting to expose his spark.

      An alarmed call of his name brought the red Seeker back to himself. Blueshift's hand was hovering above his spark, the light from it turning his chamber a churning blue-white. “Starscream...,” he said more calmly. “We can't –“  
  
      “We can. Its not a merge.” Starscream panted, pushing his chest out further. “Its already yours. Please...just...touch me.”  
  
      Blueshift seemed to consider for just a moment before he lowered his fingertips to graze the violently swirling ball of light within his lover's chest. Starscream nearly howled at the touch.

      “Yes! That! Don't stop!”  
  
      Resuming his thrusts at his previous rhythm, the blue-and-green jet brushed his fingers just a little further into Starscream's spark. Then, the red Seeker did howl. 

      And pushed his hips down as hard as he could while curling into Blueshift's hand, his frame snapping forcefully into overload when a tendril of light from his spark twisted itself around a blue finger.

      The charge behind Starscream's overload snaked out of his spark, down Blueshift's arm and through his frame to entwine with his own charge, and the blue jet let himself go with a shout.

      He had the presence of mind to shift slightly onto his side as his frame gave out and he and a limp and senseless Starscream collapsed onto the berth.

      Some minutes passed as both Seekers' systems whirred back to full function.

      Blueshift stirred first. “Starscream?”

      “Hmm?”

      “That was.... Do you...?”  
  
      “Hmm.” His red lover slurred something that sounded like, “Gimme a minute.”  
  
      Lifting himself free of wings and limbs, Blueshift peered around Starscream at the light still pouring from his open plating. As he reached a tentative hand out to ease the plates closed, he began, “Maybe you should –“  
  
      “I'm okay. I just...need a minute. Hmm.” Starscream pushed blindly at his own plating, succeeding at getting one plate to shift closed. “I'll fix it. Don't worry.”  
  
      “If you really are okay, I've got to get back.” Blueshift still didn't sound convinced.  
  
      Starscream waved him off. “I'm great. Thoroughly ravished. Just want to enjoy it for a little more. I love you.”  
  
      A soft intake came from his side. “I love you, too, Starscream.” A gentle kiss was pressed against his cheek and then weight on the berth shifted as Blueshift stood. “I'll ping you tomorrow to check on you.”  
  
      “Yes.” The red jet stretched languidly on his berth. “Do you need –“  
  
      “I've got it.” Starscream heard the latch on his window click and felt the cooler night air rush in. “Good-bye, my love.

      “Good-bye. Love you.” Hearing thrusters ignite, he rolled onto his back-strut. The prince onlined an optic and saw the light from the still-exposed half of his spark playing on the ceiling. He laughed to himself, and stretched again, feeling content and sated in every part of being.

      Starscream was floating thoughtlessly in his happy haze when a ping hit his inbox. Laughing at Blueshift's habit of pinging him as soon as he was fully airborne, he pulled up the ping already preparing his single glyph response when the name attached to it snapped him out of his dreamy state at Mach 3 velocity.  
  
      “Oh scrap me,” he whispered. Then he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the far side of his room: spark half-exposed, thighs wet, panel exposed, paint scuffed, sprawling on a rumpled and messy berth. 

      And he watched his face slip from stunned to utterly horrified. This couldn't be happening. Maybe he was already dreaming. He watched his own hand slap his own face and it did nothing to alleviate the dread in his spark, already spinning wildly in distress.

      Slowly, Starscream got to his knees, his reflection doing the same. His hands slid up to his face and he gripped himself painfully.  
  
      The basic query ping sitting innocently in his message box was from Megatron, not Blueshift. 

      “Oh. Scrap. Me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, spaghetti-O! The Fateful Ping has reached it's destination. Will our prince give up tried-and-true green-and-blue for a mostly unknown mech from the mines? Stay tuned, my mechas!
> 
> Many thanks to those following this harrowing tale of love and lust and loss. I appreciate the encouragement. :]
> 
> My inspo for Starscream and Blueshift's big dance scene at the Royal Tower:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fy0rYUvn7To  
> Adjust your imagination settings to make it more ballroom-waltzy and less disco, and you've got it.


End file.
